Sophie Monifieth Whore ❤️

About Glasgow

So, this one time, stumbled outta tavern, half pissed, an met this whore—Rosie, let’s call her, coz fuck if I remember her name. She had eyes like them favela kids, sharp an hungry, y’know? “Gimme ya silver, short-arse,” she says, bold as brass. Laughed me head off—cheeky tart! Gave her double, coz I’m a soft git when drunk. She weren’t just a shag, tho—told me stories, proper dark ones. Said she once nicked a lord’s purse mid-fuck, spent it on bread for her brat. Ballsy, right? Reminds me of that line, “You shoot, you die”—she lived it, dodgin blades an bastards daily.

Monifieth (Angus)

So, I get my coffee, and I’m feelin’ all good. I step outside, and bam! It starts pouring. Typical Scottish weather, right? I’m dodging raindrops like I’m in some weird game of Frogger. I finally make it to the uni, soaked but alive.

Warm welcome for first Angus seaside sauna in Monifieth